


Five Days

by Dustydexx



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean is a little crazy, He's just got serious codependency, M/M, Set between the last two episodes of Season 2, i guess, it's sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2018-01-11 17:48:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1176039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dustydexx/pseuds/Dustydexx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five days. That was how long Dean lasted without his brother, his lover, his one hope in this bottomless black hole of a world, before he got Sam back. But what happened during those five days? [[Set in between the episode before Season two's finale and the actual finale.]]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Days

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Supernatural or it's characters.
> 
> I do, however, own this fanfiction. So all rights reserved to Tennex.

Day 1: Denial.

He couldn't believe it.

He wouldn't believe it.

It wasn't true. 

Dean couldn’t believe it. Flashes of Sam spurred through his mind. Images of Sam’s smile. Oh God, his smile. The dimples that surrounded his pale pink lips, the shine of his gorgeous hazel eyes. His eyes….Dean could always get lost in those eyes. Chestnut brown hair that was silk to the very touch. 

It didn’t come in slow waves for Dean. Oh no. It hit like a full razor sharp gale. 

He would never see that smile again, would never see that damned puppy dog face that could make Dean melt with a single glance. He would never see those wide varieties of Sam's infamous bitchfaces again.

He would never see Sam again.

Dean clamored to his feet, stumbling back and tripping over the leg of the chair he was just sitting on, the chair crashing to the ground as Dean fell back, smashing against the wall. He started to hyperventilate, struggling to breathe as a hand clamped over his mouth, tears streaming from his pure emerald eyes. 

"Sam-Sam! S-Sam!" Dean’s voice was wavering and if you just walked by the room, it was sound like you were hearing someone have a severe asthma attack.

Dean struggled to climb to his feet, leaning on the wall with a dangerous dependency. He was unstable in more then one way, one wrong step and he’d be back on the floor crying.

Not that he wasn’t already crying.

"Oh God, Sam- It’s not real- It’s not- you c-can’t- Not dead, not dead, not dead- Sam-" Dean tried to take deeper breaths, tried to close his eyes. But everytime he opened them again, he just caught the slightest glimpse of his brother’s cold body in the other room.

Nononononono. 

SamSamSamSamSam.

NotdeadDeadDeadDEAD. 

OHGODSAMNONONOTDEAD. 

CAN’TBEDEADSAMMYNO.

NOT REAL. NOT REAL. NOT REAL.

Dean spent the rest of day hyperventilating and denying the death of his brother with his chest heaving and tears streaking his pale already sinking face.

Day 2: Anger 

It was an angry day for Dean. So much anger was in him that he didn’t even yet feel that stabbing pain of full depression and defeat. 

No. 

All Dean felt this day was utter and un-filtered fury. 

Dean had been standing before his brother's cold course, just standing there for a few tense moments. It wasn’t a small spark and slow burn of anger he felt. It was a gasoline fire of vengeance and seething rage. Dean would have been lying if he said he hadn’t been seeing red in that moment.

He swallowed the lump of bile in his throat, turning to walk out of the room. Bobby saw it in seconds, the jaw clenched, muscles tight as a steel wire with no slack, but it was the eyes that truly terrified Bobby. Dean would have looked less terrifying with pure black demon eyes. Never in his life did Bobby think that emerald could look so angry.

Dean’s eyes were devoid of all emotion, but one.

Anger. 

Bobby took a deep breath and put his hands up slowly, taking a small step forward. He knew what Dean was about to do. “I’m going to kill him, Bobby. I’m going to RIP him apart and make him watch as I saw off his leg.” Dean snarled “rip” in a way that sounded more like a ferocious wolf then a man.

Bobby shook his head slowly, voice wary. “Now Dean, I know you want to hurt-” “Want to hurt? Ha, heh, no Bobby. You don’t get it. I don’t WANT to just HURT him. I WILL gouge his eyes out with a nail, I WILL make him choke on his own teeth. I WILL pull him apart with my own hands, Bobby. I WILL KILL HIM.” Bobby closed his eyes and tried to control the fear coursing through his blood right now.

"Dean, I can’t let you-" "I don’t need your permission, Bobby. He took, the one thing I cherish most in this world, Bobby. He took the ONLY THING I had left in this FUCKING WORLD! SO WHY ARE YOU PROTECTING HIM!?" Dean lost whatever fuse he had left and screamed, taking heavy steps towards Bobby. Bobby struggled not to trip backwards and instead held his ground, narrowing his eyes.

"You think I didn’t care about Sam, you jackass!! He was like a son to me! I wanna hurt this son of a bitch too! But we got no clue where he is, though we know he’s with the yellow eyed demon and you, you’re in no state to fight anythin’! Let alone the guy that killed your brother and the demon that killed John and Mary!" Dean just wasn’t in the right state to face anything, especially things that held such a personal level.

Bobby wasn’t sure what was worse though, the fact that Dean kept his eyes closed or the fact that he didn’t talk, barley even breathed. Dean’s jaw clenched and Bobby watched with un-ease as Dean turned around. Bobby almost jumped out of his skin when Dean punched the hard wooded wall, going straight through the material like butter. “AHHH!!!” Dean roared, resembling a lion in volume and ferocity. 

Bobby gulped and took a deep breath, watching the other man start to throw and break various items. He had a feeling he would be dealing with this un-stable bull, who was ready and roaring to kill, for the rest of the night.

Day 3: Bargaining

Dean was on his knees, head resting against the cold hard wooded wall, tears falling from his eyes.

"God? I-I don't know if you're a-actually even real or there- but p-please. Please bring Sam back. Please bring my baby boy back." Dean's chest is heaving as he cries, his hands scratching at the wood wall. 

"Please! He doesn't deserve to die! You know that, you know Sammy shouldn't have died! All he wanted was a normal life, it wasn't his fault all this happened to him! Please, I'm begging you. One miracle, just one miracle. Bring my Sammy back."

Dean waits. He waits for an answer, a beam of light, maybe some fluffy asshole to descend form Heaven and resurrect his brother.

But that doesn't happen. 

Dean isn't surprised and he frowns through his tears as he stands up, leaning against the wall.

Because if there was a God, Dean would have died instead. 

Now, he turns it on himself.

"You should have found him sooner, Dean. You damn idiot! You fuck everything up, but this, this was Sam. This was Sammy and you let him die!" Dean yelled at himself, letting his head hit the wall with an impact.

"Take care of your brother! That's all Dad ever told you and look what you've done! You should have ran faster, should have yelled louder, sooner. If you had warned him sooner he would've had time to stab the fucking guy in the eye! But you didn't! AND NOW HE'S DEAD!!" Dean screeched.

Dean was full on screaming at himself now., pounding his fists and head against the wall. His heart was pounding and his tears were falling and he could feel the pain from both his brother's death and from the pain of smashing his fists and head against the wall. 

The day continued like that, Dean begged and pleaded with any God that may or may not be up in the sky. And when no answer, no miracle would come, Dean turned the blame on himself. 

He tortured himself, yelled and screamed.

Blood was dripping from his forehead and hands and you could see bloody prints on the wall.

But at the end of the day, Sam was still dead. And nothing brought him back.

Day 4: Depression

Dean didn't want to move. Didn't want to open his eyes, didn't want live.

He didn't even want to live.

Not without Sam. 

Dean wished he had stayed feeling numb. He wished he didn't have to feel /this/.

It was like he wasn't even alive now. Dean was pretty sure that his heart wasn't even beating anymore. 

Everything was empty and cold. Nothing was worth it anymore. 

Multiple times Dean stared at the gun resting on the table, in the midst of bags and boxes of food that Bobby had brought over for Dean to eat. 

Dean didn't eat though, he couldn't. He had tried a slice of pizza and the second the food hit his stomach, it was thrown back up in protest. So Dean didn't try to eat after that, he didn't even really want to. 

Food wouldn't fill the void in Dean's stomach. And part of his mind figured that the less he ate, the sooner he would starve and just die.

Dems stared at the gun and each time he did, the more appealing the idea of a bullet lodged deep in his brain sounded. 

Dean knew he wasn't going to go to Heaven, but Dean hoped that maybe he did just enough good in the world to be allowed a goodbye to his brother before he was sent down to the fiery pits. That's really all Dean wanted, was one last goodbye to Sammy. And maybe to see Sam head off to Heaven where his baby brother rightfully belonged.

And yet, everytime Dean would try and grab the gun, something would stop him. 

It wasn't anything of Supernatural origin, it just... Was. His hand would freeze and his heart would pound with emotions that Dean hadn't felt in days.

So Dean would sit back down on his chair, and Dean would continue to feel the hollow sorrow flow through his veins. 

Dean couldn't move by the fourth day, his limbs were akin to lead, and effort was beyond gone at that point. What was the point in moving? Where could he go? What could he do? 

What even mattered anymore, now that Sammy was gone? 

Nothing. 

The pain had stopped, the anger had stopped, the denial had stopped.

And Dean wished this fucking depression would stop too.

But mostly, Dean wished Sam would stop being dead.

So Dean sat for the rest of the night sitting in the chair, no matter how much his back protested to the right angle and the hard wood digging into his sore bones.

If you looked at Dean, you could almost see the air darkening with his depression around him. 

Day 5: "Acceptance"

Dean had finally accepted Sam's death.

....Depending on how you would like to define the term "acceptance".

Acceptance for a normal person was saying the final goodbye to their dead loved one. Actually burying their loved one's body, unlike Dean. They would move on with their life, maybe shed some more tears along the way but in the end, they would accept that their loved one was dead and gone for good.

That was not acceptance for Dean.

What Dean accepted, was that he was going to put a bullet in his head for real, if he had to go another day without Sam.

So... Normal person acceptance was out of the picture.

And Dean knew what he had to do and he knew where he had to go.

He knew who he had to see and he knew the price he would have to pay.

And he accepted that because nothing is more important then Sam.

Not even ownership of Dean's own soul. 

The Impala roared as she raced down the dirt road, tearing through the Earth with her hard rubber tires. 

No, no normal person acceptance.

But then again, Dean was never a normal person.

And he accepted that.

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfiction has just been sitting for months so I thought it was high time I posted it.
> 
> Hope y'all enjoyed!  
> Lots of love,  
> Tennex<3


End file.
